


Requiem

by Hator



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Character Study, Child Abandonment, DadSchlatt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Ghost Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, Jschlatt is Toby Smith | Tubbo's Parent, Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Snowchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hator/pseuds/Hator
Summary: Two ghostly horns emerged from the blizzard. They curved behind a brown head of hair and while it was too far away to see his face, Tubbo held his breath regardless. Yep. That was definitely him.(Dear old dad decides visit Snowchester. Tubbo isn't happy.)
Relationships: Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 112





	Requiem

He first appeared in the flurry of a snow storm. The howling of the wind haunted Snowchester for what seemed like years. It never snowed in L’Manburg. Tubbo had seen snow before but something about the change of climate set his blood on fire and motivated him to work harder. This would not be taken from him, the ice and snow had been here for much longer than any of them had been and it would stay. Nobody could take what he had built this time, not Dream or Techno or-

But surely it couldn't be him. It’d been too long. Wilbur had left and there was Ghostbur to take his place. Wilbur was never mourned because he’d never been missed. But...There had been a funeral. He had been mourned and put to rest. The body had been laid out for the citizens of Manburg to grieve. Tubbo had spoken at the funeral. He was expected to. But he didn’t remember what he’d said. It probably wasn’t important. 

Two ghostly horns emerged from the blizzard. They curved behind a brown head of hair and while it was too far away to see his face, Tubbo held his breath regardless. Yep. That was definitely him. 

* * *

Tubbo thought he’d look different but unfortunately the ghost of his father looked nearly the same. The same ram horns, the same dark crisp suit, even the flag pin was in the same place it had always been. But his eyes were no longer the bright amber they'd become. They were a soft brown, almost green. It helped make his face a little less jarring but seeing him every day still scared Tubbo nonetheless. It had been such a long time since he’d died, so many things had changed. And yet here was a vision of Schlatt looking exactly the same but acting completely different. 

His voice was the worst part. 

The vision spoke and Tubbo was thrust back into his childhood, before his father had clawed and scratched to the top of the food chain. Back when it was just the two of them in a little apartment and Schlatt was just an accountant _-his father used to be an accountant, he suddenly remembered.-_

He lacked the confidence of the big business man he’d become. He spoke with trepidation, looking just past Tubbo or staring at his eyebrows, never able to look him in the eyes. A slight stutter permeated his words. Tubbo wasn’t sure how or why but it only added to his discomfort. 

“Tubbo” 

He jumped. He couldn’t help it. 

“S-Sorry.” 

His shoulders dropped and he reminded himself to calm down. Schlatt couldn’t hurt him or Snowchester. Not anymore. 

“I’m trying to remember something…” 

The snow storm Schlatt had arrived in had long since passed. It’d been a week and the skies were clear. The sunlight streamed in and the snow seemed to glisten from its gentle glow. He should check the rabbit traps. Tommy might be visiting soon and his best friend had a tendency to eat him out of house and home. 

“T-Tubbo, sorry-” 

He gave a deep sigh 

“Yea? What is it?” 

He had tried ignoring him. And at first he thought it might work but Tubbo jumped every time he spoke and while the ghost was an amnesiac it wasn’t stupid. Then he tried asking Schlatt to leave. He thought it might work when the Ghost disappeared but it had been back by the afternoon, with no recollection of being asked to leave in the first place. So instead Tubbo had settled on simply tolerating the man. 

“I’m trying to remember a pla-place.” 

His memory was spotty, Tommy told him Ghostbur had been the same. But it seemed Ghostbur’s memory loss was at least consistent, while Schlatt’s was all over the place. Sometimes Tubbo could see a glint of the man he used to be and sometimes he couldn’t see anything at all, only the pure white snow reflecting back into his empty eyes. 

“It was...There was dirt. I think? It was grassy Not like here.” 

That voice. The familiar softness it spoke with. It pierced his ears. Drove him crazy. In one ear he could hear the fragments of his Father’s voice, a tone he had only ever heard as a small boy. In the other ear he could hear what sounded like fireworks accompanied with the snarling he found familiar. It rattled his brain and sucked the air out of his lungs. He looked down at his breakfast. He wasn’t hungry anymore. But still he sat, the ghost of his father prattling on, oblivious to Tubbo’s grip on his fork becoming tighter and tighter. 

“And it was all covered in uh...The same thing t-the windows are made out of. What’s that called again? I swear, I know what it is but-” 

The fork clattered to the floor and Schlatt was left in silence as Tubbo ran towards the door to grab his coat and escape. 

* * *

The ghost had begun to follow him outside now. It seemed a bit more present than usual today, it had enough sense to keep quiet. Tubbo was chopping wood, the dull thud of the axe hitting the bark rang out throughout Snowchester but still, he could hear the fluttering of bird wings, their song carried by the crisp breeze.

“Tubs, why are you living here?” 

He ignored the nickname. He continued to swing his axe, ignoring the ghost all together. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was alone.

“Tubbo?”

Alone in Snowchester. 

“I was wondering uh-”

This was his city. Not Wilbur’s or Schlatt’s or Tommy’s or Dream’s. Nothing had ever belonged to him like Snowchester had. And if it did, he hadn’t been allowed to keep it for long. He had so many houses, so many pets, so many friends and loved ones. So many dreams and ambitions but not anymore. Now there was only Snowchester. _His_ snowchester. 

“Wha-What happened to our apartment?” 

The axe slipped from his grip. It landed in the snow with a loud crunch. He couldn’t run, not again. He finally found his voice. It was small but frigid, crackling like the ice surrounding them.

“You sold it. We moved to a bigger house in a different server.” 

Tubbo stared at the log in front of him, it was almost cut in half. It was so close to being completely split apart, he wanted to pick up the axe and break it apart so badly but his hands felt like lead, they hung at his side uselessly.

The ghost came towards him, he could see the pointy black shoe float into his peripheral vision and he was suddenly nauseous. It spoke quietly.

“I don’t remember t-that.” 

Tubbo’s neck snapped up and his words escaped before he could think about them. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t remember a lot do you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” 

And suddenly his face was red and everything was too hot. The snow beneath him seemed to melt but the tears that began to fall from his face stung. They clung to his eyelashes like icicles, obscuring his vision, blurring the vision of the ghost before him.

“You made it big and you sold the only home I’d ever known and you sold my real dad with it. I didn’t want to stay with you anymore. And I ran away and you didn’t even bother looking for me until it was convenient to you. Now you’ve got some unfinished business with me but lemme tell you something. All my business with you is over. I never wanted to see you again. I don’t ever want to see you again! So just leave!” 

He looked the ghost in the face for the first time. There was pain, genuine pain etched in the ghost’s features. His mouth was open slightly, almost like he was about to speak but just couldn’t find the right words. When had the ghost’s tie changed colors? Had Schlatt’s tie always been blue? His hands were numb, he was freezing, he could see his own breath puffing in front of him as he released one desperate breath after another. When did he start hyperventilating? 

Tubbo grabbed onto the front of his parka tightly, trying to hold onto anything to help him calm down. He held onto it like a lifeline. Still, the ghost stood still with the same stupid expression on its face. 

“T-Tubbo-”

His grip on the parka tightened. 

“LEAVE.” 

The roar that escaped him was animalistic. It was enough to send the ghost careening back into transparency and for the first time since he’d arrived it felt like Schlatt was truly gone. His throat hurt from screaming. He usually wasn’t one to shout. 

He stood there for a second, almost unsure what to do with himself. He glanced at the axe on the floor and picked it up. Without a second thought he lifted it to his side and swung.

The spruce wood splintered down the middle into two fragmented and separate pieces across the snowy bank. 

* * *

Though Schlatt was no longer haunting his house it seemed he couldn’t escape the ghost’s presence entirely. He’d wake up to his chests freshly organized or breakfast already waiting for him at the table. Then he’d go out to do his chores only to find his firewood already cut and his animals already fed. He didn’t care. As long as Tubbo didn’t have to look at it, he didn’t care what it did. Besides, that meant he had more time for visitors. 

Tommy was offered a house in Snowchester but his best friend still preferred to live at his dirt shack on the edges of L’Manburg. It was for sentimental reasons, Tommy assured him. He was close enough to their bench to make sure it was protected. He was also close enough to keep an eye on the other members of the server and make sure they weren’t up to something suspicious.

“Jesus Christ big man, it’s fucking freezing innit? How do you even do it?” 

Tubbo grabbed Tommy’s coat and shrugged, he responded to Tommy’s questioning in a lilting voice

“I dunno, I suppose I’m just used to it by now.” 

Tommy laughed and Tubbo couldn’t help but smile. Tommy made it easy. Hanging out with Tommy was like clockwork, it was something familiar that he could always fall back on. Tommy would talk and Tubbo would just sit and listen. Words came easy to him while for Tubbo each word was carefully thought out and calculated. A side effect of his Presidency. Schlatt’s amber eyes sparked across his thoughts and Tubbo shoved him into the back of his mind. Not right now. 

“So how’re things back in civilization? Everyone rebuilding?” 

Tommy smiled -he was always smiling- but the sad look in his eyes confirmed what Tubbo already knew deep down. 

“Not really. I think L’Manburg’s really gone this time. Everyone thinks it's better that way.” 

Usually Tubbo would nod and change the subject. The boys didn’t like to dwell on serious topics for very long, neither of them were very good at processing them but maybe it was the flash of amber still flickering in Tubbo’s mind that possessed him to ask if it really was better that way. 

Tommy stared and for once he thought his answer through. 

“Not up to us. Can’t build a nation all on your own.” 

Tubbo looked out the window, at the dock he’d built with his own two hands over the course of the past two weeks. The ocean was still, the sea quietly lapping onto the frigid shore. 

“I guess.” 

And then the two pieces slid into place. It was like the uncomfortable topic had never even been broached. The two of them were used to shoveling sensitive topics to the back of their minds. Tubbo had met Tommy at 13 years old when Phil had found the ram child sleeping in a box at the side of the road. Phil had offered him a room and Tommy was all over him instantly. Techno and Wilbur got annoyed with him easily, they were at that age where they didn’t want to play with their kid brother anymore. But Tubbo was someone his own age and though he’d been quiet at first, soon enough he’d been recruited as Tommy’s partner in crime. Both boys often thought the day Phil found Tubbo was one of the happiest of their lives, though neither one would ever admit it. 

But Tommy had never asked Tubbo why he’d been in that box in the first place. And he didn’t find out until several years had passed and his best friend’s past returned with a flaming vengeance. Wilbur hadn’t known either, the surprise that the man who had stolen L’Manburg was Tubbo’s father was just another weight on the one sided scale of his slipping mind. Techno had never mentioned it and Philza? Well he’d come too late to help anyway. 

So although Tommy had seen it floating around the crater surrounding L’Manburg, he didn’t think to mention it. He had even spoken to it once or twice. It tended to talk in circles and spoke of the past far too often. It was confused and inconsistent in a way Ghostbur wasn’t and it annoyed Tommy quite a bit. Sometimes the ghost didn’t know its own name and sometimes it asked him if it had been a good president. But despite the inconsistencies, there was one thing he could always count on it to ask. It always asked him about Tubbo. It asked whether or not Tommy had seen Tubbo that day, how Tubbo was doing and if he was really all alone all the way out in Snowchester. 

Tubbo stared out the window listlessly. And though he was present Tommy could tell his eyes were far away. The wind could be heard howling through the windows. 

The ghost always asked him if Tubbo was okay. Tommy never really knew how to answer.

* * *

Nobody ever came to visit. His memory was very bad. Maybe someone had visited? He couldn’t remember. 

A couple days ago some people he didn’t recognize jumped to the bottom of the crater and ran around for a while. He remembered that because he thought it was strange. Nobody really visited the crater either. It was just a big pit. People would tunnel across it sometimes but only to get to where they were really going. Nobody ever stopped, he was the only one who stayed here. 

He couldn’t remember why there was a pit here. It was deep, and went all the way down to bedrock. But it felt familiar to him. Maybe there was something here before the hole? Tubbo would know. 

Tubbo didn’t want to talk to him anymore. 

He couldn’t remember why. He tried to remember what he had done to upset his boy but it escaped him. 

His memory was bad today. 

There was another ghost. He’d only visited once or twice. The other ghost had told him that maybe he should write what he did remember in a book. The ghost had big glasses. He remembered because they glinted in the bright sunlight. Then the ghost had given him an empty book as “a welcome gift.” The book had one word in it. He didn’t think anything else was worth remembering.

He could remember remembering but then trying to remember what he’d remembered was pointless. Sometimes his mind was a labyrinth. And sometimes it was just a circle. 

He turned away from the hole. He watched the trees instead and he felt himself smile at the bees that hovered from flower to flower. 

How strange, how nature still managed to rise above it all. He could feel the destruction, the pain emanating from the crater but then he turned around and it was like it wasn’t there at all. 

All he had to do was turn his back on it. 

He heard a slight rustling to the side and he turned his head to see what or who had decided to visit him today. 

A blonde man in a green hat and a long robe. He wasn’t familiar. 

The man’s eyes were baby blue. They reminded him of someone. 

“My son told me about you.” 

The man spoke and his voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the crater he was gazing into. 

He didn’t know the man. But the man had a son too. 

_His son, Tubbo. He’d held him in his arms at 17 and promised he’d never let go. He let go, why did he let go-_

“Where is he?” 

The blonde’s nose scrunched up and he turned. The useless wings on his back fluttered in the wind. His voice was confused and he asked “Who?”

Makes sense, he was always messing up his words. 

“Your son. I-I lost mine.” 

The man turned away again, looking deep into the crater. 

“So did I.” 

His voice bounced around the broken basin once more. Its echo lasted for what seemed like an eternity. 

The man sat down on the grass and he followed. He sat down as well, a safe distance away. 

“He asked me to talk to you. Do you know your name?” 

No he didn’t. Days of solitude at the edge of the crater hadn’t helped his fracturing memory. The only thing he could remember was the one thing he couldn’t have. But he’d forget everything before he’d forget his son again. 

_Again?_ **_Again?_ **

He heard the man sigh deeply 

“Yea, I didn’t think so. Schlatt. J. Schlatt. That’s what’s on the tombstone anyway.” 

Schlatt. His name was J. Schlatt. He couldn’t remember what the J stood for. He wasn’t sure it stood for something. What did it stand for? What did he stand for? 

It seemed everyone he saw, everyone who came by this crater came once and never came again. They came only to confirm his existence. With his name it all came rushing back to him. The boy in the bandana, the man in the beanie, the ghost, the girl with hair the color of sunset. He was just a horror game. A freakshow. 

He watched them tremble, he watched them gasp, he watched their brows furrow and then he watched them walk away and never come back. 

Nobody had spoken to him. Nobody would ever come back. He was alone, always alone and he couldn’t even remember if he even deserved it. He wanted to know, he wanted to know what he did wrong so he could fix it. 

~~_And maybe Tubbo would forgive him_ ~~

“Did you know me?” 

The man in the hat sighed again and shook his head, never taking his eyes off the crater. 

“No. But I know of you. And I know what you did.” 

The bees buzzed faintly behind him. It was an incessant comfort. Constantly there. They grounded him even as memories began to slosh their way into his mind. 

_Quackity, the man in the beanie was named Quackity and he had visited once and cried and screamed and then left. He spoke a language Schlatt didn’t understand._

_Except he did, they had spoken it often. Schlatt wasn’t very good at it but he was fluent and he’d tried to teach it to his son._

_His son, his son was finally within his grasp. And all he had to do was become the president and Tubbo would be safe._

_Tubbo wasn’t safe, Tubbo would never be safe as long as he worked with those traitors. Schlatt had to teach him a lesson, it was his job to make him understand._

The other father flapped his wings and the breeze pulled Schlatt from his world of memories back to the mortal plain. 

“Wh-Who are you?” 

His voice wavered, both their heads hung low as they looked at the bedrock below. The other man seemed to mull over his words before he responded. 

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t matter in your story. But my sons do. So I’ll help you for their sake.” 

Schlatt nodded and turned towards the man, finally ripping his eyes off the crater. 

The blonde’s wings hung lifelessly from his back. They were broken and immobile and Schlatt wondered what had happened to them. 

“I know Ghostbur gave you a book. Pass it to me and I’ll help you fill it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! My first foray into MC youtuber fics.
> 
> This was written as a one shot but it ended up being waaay too long so I'm splitting it up into different parts! 
> 
> Next chapter's a doozy so if you'd like to see the rest make sure to comment and leave some kudos!


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